


A Song for the Night

by thesarcasticone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Noir Inspired, Pi, singer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesarcasticone/pseuds/thesarcasticone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The smoke was a constant companion for her, it tickled her throat and made her cough between sets. It gave an element of roughness to her voice, a fact she had heard men adored. / He came in just as she was finishing a song, her eyes roaming the place. His step was tired but firm, his eyes half open, but as observant as ever." Noir Inspired AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song for the Night

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So here's the second entry for the October prompt challenge! The theme was AUs/Crossovers, and this kind of noir inspired AU is something I'd been wanting to write ever since I saw the movie.
> 
> So, I still don't own anything. I do own my mistakes.
> 
> Roughly inspired by Castle's Blue Butterfly episode.

The smoke was a constant companion for her, it tickled her throat and made her cough between sets. It gave an element of roughness to her voice, a fact she had heard men adored and made other singers jealous. The laughter and the singing, the tapping of feet and clicking of glasses were noises which also adorned her performance and gave her the confidence to belt out some of the trickier notes, always knowing that her own voice wasn't the only sound which everyone was hearing. The ambience was one she had grown used to, one which -if not the most comfortable for her, was definitely the one she knew how to handle.

She watched men come and go; young and eager, with eyes filled with wonder and excitement for the world. She watched older men, with eyes fierce and determined, wanting to dominate the room, feeling empowered by the drinks in their hands and the suits on their backs. And then she watched the veterans of the room, always the same men week after week, sulking away their lives in the corners of the bar, always staring at their drinks as if they were trying to find the answers to all of their life's unanswered questions in the amber liquids.

The smell was husky, warm, and it filled her up with a need to sit and sip a nice warm cup of coffee as she listened to the radio, enjoying the night.

But she had a job to finish, people to enchant and money to collect.

He came in just as she was finishing a song, her eyes roaming the place, casually landing on the door the moment he stepped through it. His step was tired but firm, his eyes half open, but as observant as ever. His hat was on and he took it off the moment he saw her. His over coat looked heavy on him, like the kind of sad, little smile he fed her as he took notice of her staring at him.

She didn't blush, but straightened up her spine as she sang the last note, surveying the room as some men applauded, while others whistled. The night life wasn't for everyone, especially not for every woman, but Natasha thrived in it in a way others envied.

She turned to the pianist and told him the name of next song, her eyes twinkling with a mischief which the kind and young pianist didn't bother to comment on, for he had a keen eye and had seen when the man had entered the room and he had known Natasha long enough to know when she liked something -or someone.

As she started singing she looked for him again, finding him near the bar, his hat on the table and his head down with a light chuckle. He knew what she had done, how she enjoyed teasing him by singing one of the songs he most enjoyed.

He had told her about it on his last visit, after he had just finished wrapping a very important case and had felt the need to celebrate. That night he had oddly thought of the bar and its gorgeous and wickedly smart red headed singer, in her black dress and her red lips.

The girl was a beauty, he had never once doubted it, but she had turned out to be one of the richest and most amazing minds Bruce had ever the pleasure to know.

He had made her acquaintance after a late workday, one summer night, when he had stayed almost until closing time and had ended up sitting next to her at the bar. He had complimented her singing and had commented on her style. She had smiled and told him no one had ever asked her about her style preferences or her technique. He had gulped as he realized the true beauty of the woman, but had somehow found the courage to continue the conversation. It had almost only been one-sided, but he was glad in finding out later, that she had not minded his awkward responses and few sentences.

So he knew the song was a tease for him, and his thoughts were more than confirmed when he turned to look at her, singing into the microphone, as ethereal as ever, with red lips and a midnight blue dress, and a twinkle in her eye finished off with a smirk playing on her lips.

The waiter brought him his drink, and Bruce thanked the younger man. He sipped the glass and raised it to her as she finished her number, enjoying how she smiled at him for even a fraction of a second, before returning her gaze to wonder around the room, taking the applause and cheers with her.

He was on his third glass of whiskey, his initial glee upon seeing Natasha, having long disappeared in the middle of his second glass. The chaos and confusion of the day resting back upon his shoulders.

She saw the shift in him, how from admiring her, he went to admiring the glass of amber in front of him. How a relaxed pose turned rigid and pensive; how his eyes, sot and warm, turned cold and almost angry.

It was a passion of hers, reading people, seeing their emotions (hidden or not) displayed on their faces, on the subtle changes of their form and stand. So she knew, even before she had the opportunity to ask. Tonight, Bruce Banner wasn't celebrating, he was mourning.

"So what case have you brought for me today, Joe?" She questioned as she sat down, her shift having ended, her tips nicely saved inside her clutch and the jazz band now up on stage, their light yet soulful sound filling the room.

Bruce startled, yet quickly recuperated his posture as he recognized the sultry and teasing voice. He turned to her, his eyes carrying questions and tiredness, meeting her green, amusing and curious eyes, always hungry for knowledge, for puzzles and riddles that sometimes even Brue couldn't solve.

While he was an expert at putting two and two together, Natasha Romanoff had proven to be more than excellent at putting Joe and Jane together.

"I don't think today is a -good day, Miss Romanoff. I -"

Natasha quirked her eyebrows. She had long ago discovered that the good PI was good at his job, that he was far cleverer than he let on and that sometimes, even he forgot about it. She knew he had a tendency to self deprecate.

"Don't look so blue Mr. Banner, I'm sure whatever you've got running inside your head is not as bad as you think it is." She gave him a tease, a prompt, just to see if he would smile at her, if his eyes would shine again.

"Oh, Miss Romanoff, you have no idea." He responded, with an almost sarcastic laugh coming out of his mouth as he sipped his drink.

Natasha observed how the liquid poured over his lips, how his throat moved as the whiskey passed down to his stomach. She always enjoyed watching him, trying to figure out what was happening in his mind before he told her about it. Reading people, especially men, came easy to Natasha, but reading Bruce Banner had proven to be both the easiest and most difficult task she had ever faced.

It had been his eyes, pensive and warm, which had drawn Natasha to him way back when, but it had been his humor and his strange confidence in her which had made her stay, had made her look forward to his visits. Because all of her life Natasha had been praised for her skills, her beauty and her melodic voice. She had been told countless of times how she could have the world at her fingers with her assets and beauty. PI Bruce Banner had been the first to compliment her for something other than her vanity.

"Then tell me about it, so I know about it."

He eyed her then, his eyes both tired, but with a sense of trust which Natasha sometimes could not fathom was directed at her, a singer at a night club whom had longed for something else, something better for so long.

She had made herself a damn singer, and a more than excellent performer. Had learned to control crowds and please the audience, there wasn't anything which happened while she was onstage which she had not carefully orchestrated. But Bruce Banner had opened her up to a whole other world, one which she had no idea she was even capable of being good at.

She was a goddess with sinful lips and unearthly intelligence, her eyes shone with a potential which even Bruce could get scared of sometimes. He was smitten with her, that much he knew to be true, but then again, so were the other countless of men in the room. It was hard to not be entranced by her, her intriguing eyes and knowing smirk, as if she knew everything about you, as if she could suddenly take control of your life without you even knowing what was happening.

"It's not that exciting, Miss Romanoff. It's just been a bad week."

"Since when have I ever backed out from a case, Mr. Banner? Besides, my ride doesn't get here until eleven and I got plenty of time to kill. So do a girl a favor? Tell me about the case, Banner."

Bruce looked at her, really tried to read the mystery of a woman which Natasha was.

He sighed, threw back the remains of his drink as the pianist changed from a soft jazz to a more upbeat tune, the trumpet coming in as she raised her eyebrows in a sort of amazement.

"Ok, we start on Tuesday, last week. Little doll walks up to my office, tells me her Ma's gone missing…"

He narrated with a certain passion, sizzling right there on the surface. Because as shy and mild mannered as she knew the PI to be, she also knew he loved his job more than anything -hard week or not.

The music served as background ambiance, adding a certain air of glamour and suspense to his tale. Natasha took in every detail, every quirk of his brow, every tensing of his muscles.

"But then the little girl, she had been lying about the ice cream shop?" She questioned, taking a sip from _his_ newly refilled drink.

"What do you mean, lying?"

His mood was better, having improved as he narrated the tale of the missing mom and her new boyfriend. Of the murder he had uncovered and was now trying to solve. And of the little girl, merely ten years-old, who was starting to give him a headache.

She helped him, simply by listening and taking him seriously when he claimed he had nearly turned green with rage as he had found out about the murder of the girl's father.

"About visiting the shop, or didn't you think she was lying? A child who has lived inside her four walls for most of her short life, suddenly getting brave enough to venture out into the world all on her own, conveniently around the time her mother disappeared? If that's not fishy, I'm afraid I don't know the meaning the word, then."

He blinked in realization, because as it was usual, the woman could pick up on human errors and misdemeanors far easier than he could. Bruce guessed they balanced each other out quite nicely.

She could see him thinking over her comment, and she took the opportunity to steal a sip from his drink once more.

"Have I ever told you, you'd make an excellent Detective, Miss Romanoff?"

He hadn't meant for it to sound flirtatious, but it did. And he certainly hadn't meant for her to follow his lead, but her raised eyebrows and sly, little grin made him gulp.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice before."

Bruce was at a loss for words, completely blown away by the woman in front of him. The woman whom he had come to sometimes dream about whenever a case was growing cold, or extremely hot. He had only been half kidding, something he had never dared imagined would work out for him.

She could see his surprise and it enthralled her more than anything. Because he was a sweet man, with a clever mind which she had grown to admire, and a soft heart which had not been hard to find once she looked.

"I, um, do mean it you know." He stammered out, a blush threatening to rise up his cheeks.

Natasha fought back a grin at witnessing the flustered man, but contained her amusement, knowing that too much of it could easily drive him away.

"What makes you so certain I'm not really one of you? All dressed up and singing the pretty tune for all these folks as a clever cover?" She wasn't, but it was a thought which had soon circled her mind after her talks with the PI had started, dreams of becoming more than what she was, of venturing into another field, of breaking from the chains of her past and what she had been taught would be her only purpose in life.

His eyes widen, his back straightening as he even leaned forward, closer to her, his body being pulled towards Natasha's as if by an exterior force.

"What? I mean -is it -wow."

This time, Natasha did laugh, sweet and short and everything a laugh should have sounded like.

"It would be fascinating. It sure would make a great novel. Cabaret singer by night, PI by day. Defying everything known, kicking ass and taking names?" She felt comfortable enough to suggest, glad when he didn't seem to startle anymore, but instead had chosen to follow up on her game.

"Closing the most cases in town, riding every other cocky bastard of their job. Ruling the city and not taking no for an answer."

"I'm already half way there then." With that said she finished his drink, slamming it down hard, but with a calculated movement.

Bruce simply raised his brows in amusement and just a bit of wonder.

"I have no doubts." He said and twirled his hat, as if contemplating what his next move was to be.

"In any case, _Detective_ Romanoff. I must be off, verify the girl's story and find a killer." He stood as talked, his voice firm, but his face a bit fallen, as if he truly did not want to leave, not when she was still there, when their conversation could still be stretched a little longer.

"Always working, Mr. Banner. Never near enough time to sit and enjoy the music."

"Oh, I enjoy the music. Never miss it. But this case is important, there's a small child involved, and a probable conspiracy behind the entire mess of a thing. That, I'm afraid, can't wait."

She stood next to him, her eyes searching for his so she could properly say goodbye to her good friend, the man who fascinated Natasha more and more with each visit.

"Well then, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

Bruce smiled at her, quick and honest. His warm, chocolate eyes carrying secrets Natasha grew curious to discover. Why did he look serene yet like if someone were trailing his tail, why was he kind and smart, yet never boasted about it like every other tall man which came inside the bar? Why did he tell her all about his cases and trusted her enough with the information?

"It's no trouble, Miss Romanoff. Hope you have a good week." He tipped his hat in the most bashful way possible, the tips of his ears tinting a light pink.

"Hope you solve you case. I expect a full report." She gave him a last tease, standing up next to him. She eyed him carefully as he gulped, his eyes suddenly darting towards her lips before snapping back up to her eyes and then back to the floor.

"Wouldn't dare to leave your insights out of this one, Miss Romanoff, you've been far too valuable before."

Valuable, something she knew to be, yet no one around her saw, all blinded by the booze and the smoke and the sound of jazz buzzing in their ears.

So she grinned at him, wide and true and trying to let him know, she appreciated him far more than he could ever fathom. The quiet man who listened, who smiled and treated her as an equal.

"It's Natasha." She told him, her voice dropping to a soft whisper, her grand posture dismantling for a slight second as she gave him her first name, her eyes as honest and pure as Bruce had ever seen them.

"Have a good night then, Natasha." He smiled at her, one last time, before shoving both his hands in his pockets and turning around.

He walked away, hearing her soft goodbye behind him.

He was almost at the door, the doorman already smiling and a small gush of fresh summer air seeping in when he felt someone grab his arm. His turn was quick and almost clumsy, but he needed to know if it was her, if the red haired woman had followed him, if they were her hands which had firmly and decisively stopped him from leaving.

Bruce was greeted by her green eyes and a sultry, yet shy smile.

"You sure you're not gonna bail on me, Banner? You've run before, don't you think I've forgotten." She accused him, but her smile never left her face, her eyes sparkling with something close to mischief.

"I wouldn't even if I could." He answered back and did not let her reply as an idea struck him, as the words left his mouth without him fully processing them beforehand.

"Why don't you join me? You're off for the night, right?"

She gave him to most cheeky of smirks, and Bruce gulped as he realized she had been expecting the offer, maybe had even planned on getting it.

She blinked a few times, let her eyes wonder around his face as if she were assessing his offer to be true.

It was.

"I adore you."

She confessed, her lips moving on their own accord as they landed quickly on top of his. The kiss was brief and sweet, a gesture of her affection towards the man. She couldn't help the small smirk which crept unto her face as she looked at him afterwards, all flustered and thrown out of balance.

He cleared his throat and shook his head before he could give her any kind of proper response, because Bruce had been stunned into silence by the woman and her actions. Her courageous move and her intuitive eyes.

"Natasha?" He questioned, thanking his voice for being able to function properly after such a turn of events.

"Bruce?" She answered, taking his offered arm.

"Uh- what else were you planning on telling me about the daughter?" He questioned her, his voice a bit weak and flustered, his throat having a rasped quality in it which had Natasha playfully raising an eyebrow at him. "You can't deny you have something more up your sleeve. I may not be the best when it comes to it, but your eyes –uh, they don't –they speak more than you know."

At that Natasha stopped in her tracks, her eyes suddenly wide as she realized that she hadn't been the only one who had been trying to crack the mystery behind the person.

"Do they?" She found herself asking, the soft wind of summer hitting her frame, her loose curls gently flowing in the wind.

He looked sheepishly back at her, a blush in his cheeks as he uttered a soft, "Yes."

"Have I ever told you you'd make a good detective, Mr. Banner?"

Bruce chuckled at that and fixed his hat as he gave her an answer.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice."

"I stand by it." She finished, a nice smile on her face, a soft and warm –light in her eyes which Bruce felt hypnotized by. He wanted to see that expression on her face for as long as it could be possible.

Natasha gulped under such a –caring stare. If he continued to look at her like that, and talk as he did, she felt she could be in danger of loving him. A deed she was better to not allow –but oh how she liked it.

"So what's our next move, detective?" She teased as they stepped onto the curb, their eyes scanning for a cab to take them away from the club and back into the real night life of New York City.

"Now, now we go back over everything, see if there's anything else I missed."

And just like that Bruce had changed in front of her once again, from the bashful bachelor to the determined PI, the shift impressive to behold.

"Looking at things with a fresh set of eyes."

"Through _your_ eyes, that's even better. I'm sure you alone could crack open most of my cold case files. You have a gift, Miss Romanoff. A very special skill set most PIs would envy."

It was hard to make Natasha blush and she found she was thankful for the night and the darkness, and the fact that the PI was too bashful to truly look at her as he complimented her and thus could not see the faint tint of her cheeks.

"You flatter me, Banner. But all alone? It was in my knowledge that when it came to gumshoe work, it was always better with two. Don't you agree?

Bruce gulped, but ended smiling, small and a bit awkward, but happy.

"Yes, yes I gotta admit I do." He answered, returning his gaze to her face, delicate and fierce, handsome and beautiful all at once.

With matching smiles they both strutted out pass the old, smoky bar and into the loud and busy night street of New York. The lights blinded them, the honks startled them as they crossed a street over to where a car had parked, the driver waiting for them.


End file.
